Royal Blood

by Rhys Bowen

  Darcy was alone, sitting with a cup of coffee in front of him as I came into the breakfast room. He rose to his feet as I entered.

  “Well, if it isn’t Sleeping Beauty,” he said. “What sort of time do you call this?”

  “I don’t know. What time is it?”

  “Almost ten.”

  “Oh, crikey,” I exclaimed. “I had a disturbed night last night. I must have been making up for it.”

  “And what disturbed you?” He was looking at me in that special way, half laughing, that made my insides go weak.

  “My maid woke me up to say there was a man in her room.”

  “Lucky maid. What did she want you to do about it? Give her your blessing or come and watch?”

  “Darcy, it’s not funny,” I said. “She was terrified, poor thing. I went up to see, but of course he’d gone.”

  “Was it a hot-blooded Romanian who fancied a prim English miss?”

  “I told you it wasn’t funny, Darcy,” I snapped. “I know exactly how she felt because the same thing happened to me the night before.”

  “Who was it? I’ll see to him.”

  “Nobody I knew,” I said, secretly delighted by this response. “In fact I think it might have been a vampire.”

  I saw the smile spread across his face.

  “Don’t you dare laugh,” I said and hit him. He caught my hand in his and held me, looking down at me.

  “Come on, Georgie. I know this is Transylvania, but you don’t believe in vampires any more than I do.”

  “I didn’t, until I came here,” I said. “But there was definitely a strange young man bending over my bed, smiling at me and saying something in a strange language, and when I sat up, he just melted away into the shadows.”

  “Then I’d have to say that he was probably in the wrong room and got as big a shock as you did when you sat up. That sort of bed hopping goes on quite a lot in places like this, you know. Or perhaps you don’t. You’ve led a sheltered life.”

  “But he looked just like the man in the portrait on my wall,” I said. “Only last night the portrait had been changed, and someone was climbing up the castle wall. . . .”

  “Up the wall? That’s a pretty suicidal thing to do.”

  “Well, someone did it and there was a cloak in the chest in my room, with snowflakes still on it, and then it vanished.”

  “Dear me, it all sounds very dramatic,” he said.

  “Don’t you believe me?”

  “I’d suspect that the rich food has given you vivid dreams, my sweet.”

  “It wasn’t dreams,” I said. “I’ve felt a sense of danger since I came here. Lady Middlesex’s companion said that she sensed death as we arrived. And explain to me why all these other strange things have been happening.”

  “What strange things?” His tone was suddenly sharp and his grip tightened on my wrist.

  “Well, to begin with there was someone spying on me on the train. He tried to come into my compartment and then at the station—” I broke off because he was grinning again. “What now? Don’t you believe me?”

  “Oh, absolutely. I have to confess something. The person on the train was I.”

  “You?”

  “Yes, I got wind of which train you were traveling on and I thought it would be a good idea to keep an eye on you. I hadn’t counted on the old battle-ax keeping me at bay.”

  “But wait a minute,” I said. “If you were on the same train as us, how did you get here? An avalanche blocked the pass right after we came through.”

  “It certainly did,” he said. “By the time I’d found a car willing to drive me to the castle, the wretched road was blocked.”

  “So how did you manage to make it here?”

  “Used my initiative, my dear. Got a lift as far as I could, then bargained for some skis and skied over the pass. I must say it was a delightful run all the way down to the castle.”

  “You’re pulling my leg.”

  “Absolutely not. Would I lie to you?”

  “Sometimes, I’m afraid.”

  He was still holding my wrist and we stood there, staring at each other. “I don’t ever remember lying to you,” he said. “Omitting some of the truth, maybe, on occasions when I wasn’t allowed to tell you everything.”

  “So tell me the truth now. Are you here because Nicholas invited you to be his groomsman, or to keep an eye on me, or because you decided to crash another wedding?”

  Darcy smiled. “What would you do if I said I couldn’t tell you?”

  “I’d say you’ve probably been sent here, by somebody you can’t tell me about. Undercover, for some reason.”

  “Something like that. Let’s just say that certain people felt it would be good to have some eyes and ears on the spot, in case of trouble.”

  “So you were expecting trouble?”

  “Come for a walk with me,” he said, taking my hand.

  “Where?”

  “In the castle grounds.”

  “There is deep snow, in case you’ve forgotten.”

  “Then go and put on your boots and coat. I’ll meet you down here in five minutes.”

  “But I haven’t had breakfast,” I said, looking longingly at the spread on the sideboard.

  “Breakfast can wait. We may not have another chance to be alone together. At this minute Their Royal Highnesses are greeting their respective parents and relatives, so we can slip away undetected.”

  “All right,” I said. “Just let me pour myself a cup of coffee.”

  I gulped it down, then hurried up to my room, where, of course, I discovered that Queenie had forgotten to return my overcoat and thus had to wait while she went to her room to find it. Darcy was waiting impatiently at the foot of the stairs. The guards at the door saluted us as they opened it. Snow had been cleared from the courtyard, where the various motorcars now stood. We crossed it to the big outer gates. The gatekeeper looked at us with surprise when we indicated we wanted to go out. Much snow, he said in German. And nobody was to leave.

  “We just go for a small walk. English people need fresh air,” Darcy replied. So having decided we were mad English people, he opened a small door beside the big gates and we stepped through into the outside world. Pristine snow stretched before us. The boughs of the fir trees were bent heavy with snow and every now and then there was a soft whoosh and thud as snow slid off to the ground below. It was so bright that it was dazzling. Darcy took my hand and we crunched across the snow, keeping to the tracks the motorcars had made until we were among the trees at the base of the great crag on which the castle stood. An icy blast whistled down from the pass, freezing my nose and ears. The silence was absolute, except for the rattle of a dead branch in the wind.

  “This is nice,” I said, my breathing hanging like smoke in the chill air. “Nice but cold.”

  “I wanted to talk to you away from prying eyes and ears,” Darcy said. “I wanted to sound you out on Pirin’s death. Nicholas’s parents arrived this morning. His father will want to know the truth sometime. Nicholas can’t keep on pretending forever, and I’d like to have found out who might have killed Pirin before then, so that hopefully an international incident can be averted.”

  I nodded.

  “You must have some ideas on the subject,” he said.

  “Actually I don’t,” I said. “I was sitting opposite him at dinner. And I don’t see how he could have been poisoned. The only people who came anywhere near him were servers and Dragomir. The servers put food from the same platter on everyone’s plate, and as for wine, well, the rate he was drinking it, his glass was being constantly refilled.”

  “You saw it being refilled, did you?”

  “Yes, I did. From the same carafe as everyone else.”

  Darcy frowned. “Cyanide takes effect almost instantly,” he said, “so it’s unlikely to have been in the food because he’d cleaned his plate pretty well. Unfortunately he knocked over and spilled the remnants of his wine when he collapsed, but there does
n’t seem to be any residue in his glass.”

  “Is it possible to put cyanide into some kind of capsule, so that it wouldn’t work on the system until it was digested?”

  Darcy nodded. “Possible, I suppose, but at the rate he was chomping and drinking, it seems likely he would have bitten through a capsule much earlier.”

  I nodded. “I suppose he would.”

  “Baffling,” Darcy said. “Well, now that the pass is open I can send out the utensils to the nearest laboratory for testing and perhaps we’ll know where the cyanide was hidden. But that still brings us to motive.”

  “Oh, I can think of a lot of people who’d want Pirin dead,” I said.

  “Can you?” He looked at me sharply.

  “Well, he was an odious man, wasn’t he?” I laughed uneasily. “He ogled women, he insulted men. He called Nicholas by his first name, you know. In public. Imagine an English general calling the Prince of Wales David. Only Mrs. Simpson dares to do that.”

  “I’m well aware that Nicholas and Anton disliked him,” Darcy said, “but they are both intelligent young men. They realized his importance to the stability of the region. And if one of them wanted to kill him, there would have been better opportunities. They were out hunting, I gather. Why not mistake him for a wild boar? For that matter why not push him out of the train on the way here?”

  “You’re a bloodthirsty person at heart, aren’t you?” I asked.

  He grinned. “Oh, no, my dear, I’m a romantic. But I’ve seen plenty of hard reality in my life. So who else would have wanted him dead?”

  “What about the servers?” I asked. “Did you have a chance to talk to them?”

  “Only very briefly, but I have their names, and again, I can have someone look into their backgrounds further when we are back in communication with the outside world. But as far as I could gather they all seemed to be as that Dragomir chap described them: local men, long in the employ of this castle and thus with no reason to be concerned with what happened in Bulgaria.”

  “Which leaves Dragomir himself,” I said. “He was standing behind the table. I wouldn’t have noticed if he’d moved forward and dropped something onto Pirin’s plate or into his glass. What do you know about him?”

  “Dragomir? Very little.”

  “Do you know, for example, that he is not from Romania?”

  “He’s not?”

  “Siegfried told me. He said that was why he hadn’t risen higher in Romanian government. He comes from a border area that has changed hands several times. He could be in the pay of another government.”

  Darcy’s eyes lit up. “He certainly could be. Good thinking, old bean.”

  I had to laugh.

  “What?”

  “I didn’t know you thought of me as ‘old bean.’ I’d hoped for something a little more romantic.”

  He moved closer to me and slipped his arms around my waist. “I’ll reserve those words for the bedroom at some more opportune moment,” he said and then he kissed me. “Mmm, what deliciously cold lips. They need warming up.” The second kiss was not so gentle and left us both breathing hard. “I suppose I should be getting back to help Nick and Anton,” Darcy said, releasing me with reluctance from the embrace. “Any minute now their father is going to want to visit the field marshal’s bedside. I’ve no idea how we’re going to pull this off, and I just wish that I had something concrete to tell them about Pirin’s death. I can ask Siegfried about Dragomir, but again I can’t find out much more about him until the telephone service is restored.”

  “And Siegfried will want to know why you are interested in Dragomir’s past,” I said. “He may be obnoxious but he’s not stupid. He wanted to go up to the field marshal’s room to check on him last night, and I had to dissuade him with my feminine wiles.”

  Darcy burst out laughing. “I don’t think that feminine wiles work particularly well on Siegfried,” he said.

  We started to walk back up the slope to the castle.

  “Siegfried talked about marriage again last night,” I said.

  I’d expected him to find this amusing. Instead he said, “Perhaps you should accept. You might not get a better offer. Princess Georgie, maybe Queen Georgie one day.”

  “Don’t say that, even in jest,” I said. “You wouldn’t wish me married to Siegfried, would you?”

  “I’m sure he’d let you keep a lover, since his own interests lie elsewhere.”

  “He actually said that. I suppose it’s the way it’s done in royal circles, but it’s not for me.”

  I felt Darcy’s grip tighten on my hand. “Georgie, you know I’m a rotten catch,” he said. “I have nothing to offer a woman. I don’t even have a nice little castle in Ireland any longer. I live by my wits and I can’t see how I’m ever going to support a wife. So maybe you should think more sensibly and forget about me.”

  “I don’t want to forget about you,” I said shakily. “I don’t need a castle.”

  “I can’t see you being happy in a little flat in Putney,” Darcy said. “And I don’t think your family would be too happy either. But anyway, I’m not ready to think of settling down yet. I have to make my mark in the world first, and you have to experience more of life.”

  We walked the rest of the way in silence. Would I be happy in a little flat? I was thinking. Would I be able to fit into a world I didn’t know, living a life only just getting by, with no luxuries, and with a husband who couldn’t tell me about his career but who disappeared for long periods? I decided to put the future on hold for now.

  Chapter 21

  As we approached those formidable gates I looked up at the castle and a thought struck me. “Darcy, that man I saw climbing up the wall—the one who came into my bedroom. You don’t think he had anything to do with Pirin’s death, do you? You don’t think he was sent here with that mission?”

  Darcy frowned. “I don’t see how any outsider could have administered the poison. As I said, death is usually almost instantaneous. And I discount your theory of vampires.” He glanced at me and saw my mouth open, about to speak. “That man bending over you . . . who knows, maybe one of Nicholas’s groomsmen took a fancy to you. Or more likely someone got the wrong room. It’s easy to do in a place like this.”

  “I know,” I said, remembering with embarrassment. “I went to Siegfried’s door by mistake. His room is next to mine.”

  Darcy laughed. “Well, that explains everything, doesn’t it? I’ll wager the young man was paying a nightly visit to Siegfried. No wonder he was shocked to see you instead.”

  I considered this as we went back up the steps. It did seem a likely explanation and one that I liked better than anything supernatural. It didn’t get us any closer to solving who killed Field Marshal Pirin, but at least it made sense.

  The door guards stepped forward smartly to open the castle doors for us. They saluted although their expressions betrayed that we were mad for trying to venture forth on a morning like this. In the entry hall we encountered Lady Middlesex and Miss Deer-Harte, dressed in their overcoats.

  “Oh, there you are. We’ve been looking all over for you. Where have you two been?” Lady Middlesex demanded.

  “Just for a quick hike over the pass,” Darcy said.

  “Rubbish,” Lady Middlesex said. “Nobody could go far in this sort of snow.”

  “We went for a little walk,” I corrected.

  “Oh, so a walk is possible after all. These stupid people are telling us that the snow is too deep to go anywhere and they didn’t seem to understand when we asked them for snowshoes,” Lady Middlesex said. “Really these foreigners have no stamina at all.”

  “It is deep, actually,” I agreed. “We only walked in the tracks the tires made.”

  “Dashed annoying,” she muttered. “It seems that none of the drivers are prepared to drive us back over the pass yet. They say that it was bad on the way here and they’re not going to risk it again yet, with the promise of more snow. So it looks as if we’re still stuc
k. But at least we can be useful in your investigation into that man’s death. When do we have our first council of war?”

  “I’m going to find Prince Nicholas this very minute,” Darcy said. “I’ll let you know later.” We left them and walked up the stairs to the main floor. “Those women are going to be trouble,” Darcy muttered to me. “Poking their noses in and saying the wrong thing at the wrong minute. Can’t you do something to distract them? Or better yet find a suitable dungeon and lock them in it?”

  “Darcy.” I laughed.

  “I’m sure a castle like this must have an oubliette,” he went on, chuckling now.

  “You are terrible. And I don’t see what I can do to distract them. I don’t even know my own way around.”

  “They’re going to ruin everything if they are left loose,” Darcy said. “For God’s sake try to keep an eye on them.”

  “I will,” I said.

  “Oh, and Georgie,” he said, reaching out his hand to me as I turned away. “Take care of yourself. Someone in this castle has already been killed.”

  I considered that statement as I went slowly down the hall to my room. Someone in this castle was a ruthless killer. Not that the killing affected me in any way. It had to be of a political nature, carried out by someone who either wished to cause trouble between Balkan states or was a communist or anarchist. Maybe our own government suspected that trouble was likely and that was why they had sent Darcy—one never knew with him. But such a killer wouldn’t pose any threat to someone like me, who was only thirty-fourth in line to a distant throne. But I had been threatened in a different way, hadn’t I? The vampire bending over my bed. The strange man in Queenie’s room. I didn’t see how the two could be related. If vampires had wanted to kill Field Marshal Pirin, I imagined they would have done a far more impressive job of it—hurled him from the battlements or sent a great statue crashing onto his head, or even bitten his neck and turned him into one of them. Poisoning with cyanide was all too human a crime. . . .